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I just emerged from a puddle of reading entitled, The Fault In Our Stars, by John Green. Terminal illnesses and dying children. My kids like to give me hand grenades masquerading as books because they love me. Who did I relate to? Who else but Hazel's mother... And Augustus. I too want a valiant quest filled life while living a day to day one.
I type now with that disjointed feeling of emerging from fiction to realize it's only 8 a.m. At some point I'd thoughtlessly given permission for my youngest to play a video game on a weekday morning just so I could cry through the last chapters.
One of my favorite poems is Erlkoenig, by Geothe, because, well because I've been on that horse riding "geschwind" with my child while trying to veballly prevent him from dying as we raced to the hospital.. And my son and I? We've defeated the Erlkoenig. We've won. Every time, every separate race.. Reading the words of the poem guts my heart for the fictitious father yet simultaneously fills it with a heady victory.
Words aren't medicine. Words aren't cures. But then again they are.
"In the beginning was the word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. John 1:1
"I'd always associated belief in heaven with, frankly, a kind of intellectual disengagement. But Gus wasn't dumb." Hazel- The Fault In Our Stars
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.
I just emerged from a puddle of reading entitled, The Fault In Our Stars, by John Green. Terminal illnesses and dying children. My kids like to give me hand grenades masquerading as books because they love me. Who did I relate to? Who else but Hazel's mother... And Augustus. I too want a valiant quest filled life while living a day to day one.
I type now with that disjointed feeling of emerging from fiction to realize it's only 8 a.m. At some point I'd thoughtlessly given permission for my youngest to play a video game on a weekday morning just so I could cry through the last chapters.
One of my favorite poems is Erlkoenig, by Geothe, because, well because I've been on that horse riding "geschwind" with my child while trying to veballly prevent him from dying as we raced to the hospital.. And my son and I? We've defeated the Erlkoenig. We've won. Every time, every separate race.. Reading the words of the poem guts my heart for the fictitious father yet simultaneously fills it with a heady victory.
Words aren't medicine. Words aren't cures. But then again they are.
"In the beginning was the word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. John 1:1
"I'd always associated belief in heaven with, frankly, a kind of intellectual disengagement. But Gus wasn't dumb." Hazel- The Fault In Our Stars
.
.
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